The Yakuza's flower

I Do's

Ume's pov

Our traditional wedding was held at one of Hanayama's godfather's estates.

The grounds were vast and immaculately kept, stone paths winding through gardens that felt older than memory itself. Everything about the place carried weight—history, authority, lineage. This wasn't just a venue. It was a statement.

From the moment I arrived, I could feel the eyes on me the minute i stepped out the car.

Men in dark suits stood at respectful distances, their presence more ceremonial than threatening. Women moved quietly, voices low, every gesture careful—as if the land itself demanded composure.

I stood still for a moment, breathing it in.

Until my grandmother adjusted the sleeve of my kimono, her touch warm and steady. "Walk with your head high," she whispered to me as she smiled.

I did just as she told me.
I fought all my nerves and began walking.

Everyone followed behind me as I led them into the garden.

I met Hanayama, just outside the building we were meant to walk into together. Our guests went inside first and it was just us alone.

Hanayama stood infront of me, dressed in his traditional clothes.

He looked so handsome it stole the breath from my lungs. Formal, composed, every line of him clean and deliberate—but as always he held something softer just for me.

Hanayama couldn't stop staring at me ever since I came into his view.

He didn't even dare blink.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

His gaze moved over me slowly, like he was making sure to commit the sight to memory.

"Wow, you look so beautiful," he said at last.

Warmth rose to my cheeks and I smiled softly.

"You look handsome yourself."

That earned me the smallest curve of his mouth.

He stepped closer, careful, like he understood how much weight this moment carried. His hand found mine, firm and grounding, his thumb brushing once over my knuckles.

"You ready?" he asked quietly.

I looked up at him.

At the man I had chosen — and the man who had chosen me back without hesitation. The man who stood steady beside me ready to take on the world with me.

"Yes," I said softly and nodded.

Together, side by side, we turned toward the doors and walked in.

Inside, the room had been arranged simply and traditionally. Guests lined the edges of the space. Tatami mats rested beneath our feet. Low tables stood near the front.

And in front of us—

Three small cups rested in a neat row.

Not filled with sake.

Clear water.

For me.

No announcement was made about the change. No explanation was needed. The kimono hid my baby bump well enough that no one suspected anything.

This moment belonged to us.

Hanayama knelt next to me, back straight, expression composed like always.

We snuck a little glimpse of each other before turning our attention back to the minister.

Three cups.